Status: Finished. Sequel possible.
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Hurried steps rounded the corner, long black hair trailing after its owner. In the sanctity of her hideaway - the space between the brick wall of the dumpster enclosure and the back of the school - Julian Hill felt it safe to pull out her carton of Marlboros and light up. Her left pocket was heavy with the bag of weed she’d bought earlier that day, but even she wasn’t stupid enough to toke up at school. It’s better saved for the serenity of her bedroom, anyway.
Halfway through her cigarette, the bell signaling the end of lunch rang. Julian stubbed her cigarette off on the bottom of her chucks and stuffed the half-finished stick back into the pack. No use wasting a few good puffs. Jogging, she tugged her pants up higher on her waist and made her way to class. Mondays were the only days she didn’t cause hell for her teachers; Monday was her letter-day.
When Julian entered the front door of her house later, she called out to her mother who was in the kitchen making something that smelled wonderful. Marian Hill poked her head around the corner and gestured to the small tabled by the door designated for their keys. In the bowl for keys was a letter; a plain white envelope, with her name and address written neatly on the front. In the top right corner where the sender’s address usually was, G.A.W. was her only clue to their identity.
Tossing her book bag to the floor, Julian took the letter and charged up to her room with excitement. She lived for Mondays - it was the only day of the week that she was able to have any contact with her father. As she passed her dresser, she flipped the power switch and the sounds of My Chemical Romance played quietly through the room. Julian threw herself on her bed and tore the letter open, eager to read its contents.
Jules, he always started with her nickname. He was the only one she allowed to call her that; it was her way of paying homage to the man she never knew, but who still made an effort to let her know he cared.
Work with the guys was hard today. She had no clue who “the guys” were. He talked about them often, but conveniently left out their names. She figured that was one of her mother’s conditions when she allowed him to write her these letters. No way to reveal his identity. Marian didn’t want him around Julian. She said that he was a bad influence, and she didn’t want Julian exposed to him. Julian figured she’d been exposed to just about everything already; she didn’t have to worry about her father corrupting her.
Everything is coming along nicely, though. We came up with some new ideas for our next project. We don’t want it to be too much like our last one; people would lose interest in it, then. I think this one will be a winner, too. I hope so, at least. My income’s counting on it! Ha-ha.
Your little sister is growing up so fast. I hope one day the two of you could meet. She looks like you as a kid, it’s heartbreaking.
Are you doing well in school? You’re graduating next year, have you thought about what you want to do after school? I know you’ll do well, you’re my kid after all.
I know Marian doesn’t let you send letters back but… I’m always hoping that one day I’ll come home and a letter will be waiting for me in the mailbox. I know Marian doesn’t read these, so I wrote my address for you at the bottom of the paper. Don’t be a stranger, even if it’s only a few words it would make me so happy.
All my love,
G.A.W.
Julian stared at the sheet of paper for a long time. She knew she couldn’t send him a letter without her mother knowing; Marian checked the mailbox periodically throughout the day, so she would see if Julian posted a letter. With a groan of frustration, Julian scrawled from her bed and tore open the top drawer of her dresser. Two boxes lay inside; one held all the letters her dad wrote to her since she had learned to read. The other box held her stash of pot. After depositing the letter and the newly bought bag, she took out an already rolled joint and her lighter.
A few hits later and she was laying in her room, scrambling for ideas on how to contact her dad. She knew that nothing would work; she’d been mulling over the idea for six years. Nothing would magically happen. Slowly, she lolled her head to the side and smoothed her hand over the bed sheets in an effort to find her beeping phone. With a snort, she remembered it was still in her bra. With a push of the end button, she stopped its noise and looked at the text message on the screen.
Grandma sent me some cash and I picked it up from the post office after school. You thinking what I’m thinking? Julian snorted and tapped out a short response, asking where to meet.
Tomorrow, we’ll meet back at out tracks. Don’t forget! Julian grinned and responded again before turning the phone off and taking another hit from the smoldering joint in her hand. As she passed the hours at her window, blowing the smoke outside, Julian couldn’t help but think about her father. She didn’t know a lot about him. She had his address, though. He had the initials G.A.W, he had neat handwriting. He was married to a female he called “LZ” and he had several friends that he worked with. He has a daughter who was born roughly three years ago.
He met up with her mom some time in 1994, when they were both really young and stupid. Marian said that they had gone out on a few dates and one night they got too frisky and nine months later Julian Gina Hill was born. Marian said she broke it off with her father before she was born, and only let him see her sporadically throughout the first few months of her life. After a short time, they moved to Wisconsin, where he wouldn’t be able to visit.
He fought against it, but Marian was adamant that Julian was not around him. He was deep into drugs and alcohol at the time, and Marian didn’t want Julian around that. Understandable, but continually keeping him away when Julian was old enough to know better was a bit ridiculous.
Julian stayed in her room re-reading the letter, long after her high had worn off. Something about this letter was different. There was something there that was tugging on something in her mind. Julian thought long and hard all through the night and early into the morning. Something had changed.
Halfway through her cigarette, the bell signaling the end of lunch rang. Julian stubbed her cigarette off on the bottom of her chucks and stuffed the half-finished stick back into the pack. No use wasting a few good puffs. Jogging, she tugged her pants up higher on her waist and made her way to class. Mondays were the only days she didn’t cause hell for her teachers; Monday was her letter-day.
When Julian entered the front door of her house later, she called out to her mother who was in the kitchen making something that smelled wonderful. Marian Hill poked her head around the corner and gestured to the small tabled by the door designated for their keys. In the bowl for keys was a letter; a plain white envelope, with her name and address written neatly on the front. In the top right corner where the sender’s address usually was, G.A.W. was her only clue to their identity.
Tossing her book bag to the floor, Julian took the letter and charged up to her room with excitement. She lived for Mondays - it was the only day of the week that she was able to have any contact with her father. As she passed her dresser, she flipped the power switch and the sounds of My Chemical Romance played quietly through the room. Julian threw herself on her bed and tore the letter open, eager to read its contents.
Jules, he always started with her nickname. He was the only one she allowed to call her that; it was her way of paying homage to the man she never knew, but who still made an effort to let her know he cared.
Work with the guys was hard today. She had no clue who “the guys” were. He talked about them often, but conveniently left out their names. She figured that was one of her mother’s conditions when she allowed him to write her these letters. No way to reveal his identity. Marian didn’t want him around Julian. She said that he was a bad influence, and she didn’t want Julian exposed to him. Julian figured she’d been exposed to just about everything already; she didn’t have to worry about her father corrupting her.
Everything is coming along nicely, though. We came up with some new ideas for our next project. We don’t want it to be too much like our last one; people would lose interest in it, then. I think this one will be a winner, too. I hope so, at least. My income’s counting on it! Ha-ha.
Your little sister is growing up so fast. I hope one day the two of you could meet. She looks like you as a kid, it’s heartbreaking.
Are you doing well in school? You’re graduating next year, have you thought about what you want to do after school? I know you’ll do well, you’re my kid after all.
I know Marian doesn’t let you send letters back but… I’m always hoping that one day I’ll come home and a letter will be waiting for me in the mailbox. I know Marian doesn’t read these, so I wrote my address for you at the bottom of the paper. Don’t be a stranger, even if it’s only a few words it would make me so happy.
All my love,
G.A.W.
Julian stared at the sheet of paper for a long time. She knew she couldn’t send him a letter without her mother knowing; Marian checked the mailbox periodically throughout the day, so she would see if Julian posted a letter. With a groan of frustration, Julian scrawled from her bed and tore open the top drawer of her dresser. Two boxes lay inside; one held all the letters her dad wrote to her since she had learned to read. The other box held her stash of pot. After depositing the letter and the newly bought bag, she took out an already rolled joint and her lighter.
A few hits later and she was laying in her room, scrambling for ideas on how to contact her dad. She knew that nothing would work; she’d been mulling over the idea for six years. Nothing would magically happen. Slowly, she lolled her head to the side and smoothed her hand over the bed sheets in an effort to find her beeping phone. With a snort, she remembered it was still in her bra. With a push of the end button, she stopped its noise and looked at the text message on the screen.
Grandma sent me some cash and I picked it up from the post office after school. You thinking what I’m thinking? Julian snorted and tapped out a short response, asking where to meet.
Tomorrow, we’ll meet back at out tracks. Don’t forget! Julian grinned and responded again before turning the phone off and taking another hit from the smoldering joint in her hand. As she passed the hours at her window, blowing the smoke outside, Julian couldn’t help but think about her father. She didn’t know a lot about him. She had his address, though. He had the initials G.A.W, he had neat handwriting. He was married to a female he called “LZ” and he had several friends that he worked with. He has a daughter who was born roughly three years ago.
He met up with her mom some time in 1994, when they were both really young and stupid. Marian said that they had gone out on a few dates and one night they got too frisky and nine months later Julian Gina Hill was born. Marian said she broke it off with her father before she was born, and only let him see her sporadically throughout the first few months of her life. After a short time, they moved to Wisconsin, where he wouldn’t be able to visit.
He fought against it, but Marian was adamant that Julian was not around him. He was deep into drugs and alcohol at the time, and Marian didn’t want Julian around that. Understandable, but continually keeping him away when Julian was old enough to know better was a bit ridiculous.
Julian stayed in her room re-reading the letter, long after her high had worn off. Something about this letter was different. There was something there that was tugging on something in her mind. Julian thought long and hard all through the night and early into the morning. Something had changed.
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Thanks for reading. You're the bomb.